Roadtrippin’ Through California in 12 Days: Death Valley
I’ve never been to California —
Well, I had never been.
Last July when Kai Larsen invited me on his last minute Alaskan backpacking trip, I had no idea what that was to entail — with merely 3 days notice I was on my way to Seattle, and then Fairbanks.
I also had no idea that following such a trip, I would develop a reputation amongst my friends for spontaneity. Think a Billy Mays (RIP) TV commercial from 2007; “Do you have an adventure planned but you need another person at the last minute?! Think Bryce!”
So when Jared Kreiss shot me an extremely suspicious text lacking any detail about a trip to California with only 10 days notice, I instantly began scheming of ways to tell my boss I was going to be gone.
As soon as I read his text, my heart began to race. I had never been to the Golden State, I’ve never spent any amount of time close to 7-10 days with another human being in a space as small as a van, and I wasn’t where I wanted to be with my savings — a few weeks back I flooded my MacBook and had to buy a new one, my truck is getting new tires soon, so on and so forth.
And at the surface level, there was a decision that had yet to be made. To friends and family, I appeared as if I was undecided; posing questions to friends who’ve visited, friends who were raised in California before moving to Charleston, friends who have read something about California on Instagram, really anybody who knew anything about California.
But I had already decided that I was to go. These thoughts were simply coping — “I’m gonna have to put this on a credit card and I need SOMEBODY to justify me not going.” But everyone told me California was insane, physically and politically, and then told me to go, so… that backfired.
the route we would find ourselves on.
So there I was, 9am on a Monday morning. Driving not to the woodshop, but instead to Jareds parents home just north of ATL — where we would be flying out from.
Before I knew it, we had landed in SFO at around 11pm western (2am back home) with only three major anxiety inducing moments:
Riding the Atlanta metro to the airport with $15,000 worth of gear in our luggage
Sneaking Jareds obviously oversize bag past the notoriously ruthless Frontier gate agents
The two people seconds away from throwing hands on the flight before the flight attendants intervened — before we even left the gate.
The last two will be remedied for all future travel: I’ll stick to more reputable airlines.
We were greeted by Van Jovi, a long wheelbase E350 converted into a camper provided by the company we were out here shooting for.
We spent our first night just south of San Francisco in a small town called Pacifico upon the recommendation of the van company. With a first terrible nights sleep under our belt (1 of 12 to come), we began our drive east — making it only minutes before discovering a screw in our tire. Thankfully we got it repaired within 45 minutes.
We had planned on making it into Death Valley on our second day — a mere, easy, simple 8 hour drive. Happily that did not happen. As I’ve written about endlessly, all of my life I have rushed through my adventures, trying to see what’s next. Jared is a victim of this as well, which makes for a ruthlessly fast-paced combo. Though our first evening set a decent precedent — we will arrive when we arrive. While getting gas in Bakersfield, we decided on an 18 minute delay in exchange for taking the “scenic route.”
And we did, arriving at some of the most stunning pieces of public land I have ever seen.
Stumbling upon such a spectacular location, we decided to call the drive quits here and spend the night. Longing for a beautiful sunrise (manifestation?), we perched ourselves atop a ridge on this BLM land.
The sun rose as did the temperatures. Frost on the windshield can mean only one thing, and seeing as I was sleeping on the floor of the van (the bed most definitely could not fit two six foot men, even well acquainted friends), I had no insulation below me. Nevertheless, with our coldest night now behind us, we ventured outside and we were greeted with this spectacular view.
Ignorantly, I thought this would be one of the most insane views of the trip. Lord, was I mistaken.
With the sunrise behind us, we continued east towards Death Valley with a few stops along the way, namely stopping at Walmart for a mattress topper for me to lay on (remembered) and a blanket to keep me warm (somehow forgotten???)
Our days in the Valley were to consist now of two nights; arrive for sunset today, experience sunrise and sunset tomorrow, and then once again, and then sunrise, then depart. But we were stunned — stopped in our tracks before ever entering the park boundary.
This area at the far southeast of the Sierra range is stunning. Vast expanses are surely the quickest way for God to humble, and no doubt that is what occurred in my very soul here. On this particular two lane highway headed east towards the park, we sat in the lane of traffic for 15-20 minutes without another car coming by. Jared shot some insane drone footage, I occasionally grabbed my camera but generally stood in awe, and before we knew it, we had spent hours here — at least one — as the sun continually worked its way towards the horizon.
So onwards we went.
With a few hours to spare before sunset, we scouted out locations for sunrise: Zabrinskie Point is a genuinely world class location for reasons you will soon see, and we quickly agreed on shooting that the following morning. But we also scouted for future sunsets — namely Artists Point, a short drive away. Of course, being in the area (note: “being in the area” in one of the largest parks in the world means being within a two hour drive) we had to check out Badwater Basin — the lowest point in North America.
And with such a beautiful location, it is only fitting that there be a beautiful story.
Death Valley is, in fact, a valley. But it is hardly full of death. There is plenty of life to be found even during the 130º summers — Death Valley as a park has incredibly poor PR. I’ll be honest, I truly had no desire to even visit until I was kind of forced into it by traveling with someone who wanted to go, and with such hindsight I can not overstate the importance of being open to things you had not considered — in travel, in life.
The valley itself, including the aforementioned Badwater Basin, is a relatively small portion of the indescribably, incomprehensibly large park, yet the forces at work can not be understated:
Sitting between two faults and their resulting mountain ranges — the Panamint Range to the west and the Amargosa Range to the east, the valley is a median. As each fault slides, pushing their respective mountain ranges higher, the land between sinks lower — creating such a beautiful landscape. The record heats are also a result of such forces; as air is warmed by the sun, it rises, yet it can not rise above the mountains, so it cycles back to the valley floor, where it is heated in an endless cycle.
It is in a place such as this that the forces of Creation, the hand of God, can not be ignored.
With the aforementioned Artists Point being chosen for sunset, we headed back that way. Artists Point is a point, but it is merely on spot along the Artists Point Loop — a one way road that brings you through some truly incredible landscapes. With some insider info recommending that we wait until blue hour — after the sun passes the horizon — to shoot, we set up on the first pullout we saw and made dinner.
The colors here are fantastic and absolutely do not show up on camera.
That evening we slept inside the park — you can sleep unless otherwise posted anywhere beyond 1 mile from the main park road. The following morning, we were gifted with genuinely, the greatest sunrise of my life.
A full moon! A pink sky! A beautiful Creation! With a morning like this I have never appreciated life more.
Zabrieskies Point is surely a must do for anyone in Death Valley — preferably sunrise but likely also sunset.
Hyped, yet exhausted from another night of poor sleep, we found our way underneath the only shade we could find in preparation for the mid-day sun.
You may be as surprised as I was to learn that in Death Valley — in fact, in Badwater Basin (the hottest place on Earth…) — there are two inns open year-round. They have a flowing creek, manicured landscaping, palm trees, bars, restaurants and chessboards —
You get the point. All of this exists and you can stay for merely $750/night.
But I can’t — I am broke. So I made eggs & rice & bacon in the van and then Jared and I bummed it in a secluded, public portion of their freshly watered grass.
But as time marched on, lunch came calling, and so we ventured into the restaurant portion of The Oasis where I ate a deliciously normal barbecue chicken quesadilla on recommendation of the staff, washed down with a beer. I have two general rules when traveling: swim in every body of water I can, and if I’m somewhere I may never return again, buy lunch or dinner and a beer. A memory of food that may, at some point in the future, bring me back to this very moment.
Sunset for this evening was to be spent at the Mesquite Sand Dunes — the easily accessible option of the two sets of sand dunes in the park. The other being the Eureka Dunes which require good weather and 4x4 to get to. We’d then spend the night in the nearby Stovepipe Wells campground.
The next morning we had decided it was time to work our way towards the coast and Highway 1. Before we departed from the park, though, we made sure to shoot one final sunrise at the Mesquite Sand Dunes and again, we were anything but disappointed.
And with another beautiful sunrise from the far east of the Golden State, our time to depart was upon us. When we first entered Death Valley, I had endless preconceived notions; dead, barren, hot, miserable, sightless. If I had not maintained an open mind, which I am often guilty of, I would have missed easily the greatest landscape I have yet seen —
Let me repeat that again: Death Valley is the greatest landscape I have ever seen. Beyond The Alps and the Rockies, Alaska and Hawaii. Beyond the marsh of Charleston, perhaps this place is only equal in scale and grandness to the oceans I hold so dearly.
In any case, stories of great cliffs and black sand, blooming flowers and rolling green hills, cold water and ferocious winds had been eating at us through our entire trip thus far.
Coastal California has been given great praise, and it was now time to see what all the hype was about..